| Local

Cloaca, the machine that takes in food and turns it into shit, surprised the hell out of me. Id expected to like ita little. I wanted to see it eat, and I did see food washed down its gullet into a food disposal.

| Local

| Local

Some days, the act of painting seems so, well, useless. One is muse-less, headachy, hung-over, or distracted. It is then that I find it useful to pretend that I am a farmer. In my fantasy they get up early, quite early in the morning since the cows have to be milked and the growing season is short.